Never a great sign, Monday lunchtime and about four tables occupied. Not when it’s a space as large as this cavernous room, which must surely have been a banking hall in a former life.
I’d been searching for something funky in the City that wasn’t Spitalfields and The Modern Pantry came up on the Opentable scroll. Perfect, I thought, something a bit quirky but not too terrifying for clients.
I was wondering what they were thinking, the Modern Pantry lot, with this adventure at the heart of suitland. You could call it Shoreditch, I suppose, on the very edge of it but really, it’s as much Shoreditch as Victoria is Belgravia.
I’ve always had a bit of a soft spot for their Clerkenwell gaff and l couldn’t quite see how that would translate, only a mile or so down the road but in another universe, punter-wise and I am not sure that the translation actually makes sense.
Looking at the menu online, I was sucked in by the edgy ingredients and interesting combinations. A little Peter Gordon-esque, I thought, it had that same use of unusual ingredients and that irreverence towards traditional combinations one would expect in a fusion restaurant.
I am not surprised to discover later that the chef, Anna Hansen, worked with Peter Gordon at the legendary Sugar Club and also at The Providores; there’s a clear connection between their menus.
This menu is mostly promise however and it delivers less than the expected punch. Grilled aubergine, yuzu, chili and soy dressing, macadamia and hazelnut dukkah is fine, the aubergine lovely and smoky, served cold. I would have preferred room temperature but it’s a very hot day so it’s quite refreshing. The aubergine is slightly overpowered by the sharp zestiness of the yuzu dressing in which it is drenched but it’s fine.
I love the description of the Gazpacho with Gochugaru (Korean red pepper) & Iranian lime croutons, with Argan oil. It sounds eastern and interesting and in fact it’s just a fairly workaday gazpacho, without the expected punchy flavours promised in the description. I want a bit of drama with that description, a bit of fiery spice. I get delicate restraint and single-note flavours.
The Persian-spiced Cornish pollock with garlic courgettes, lemon mash and truffled salsa is also surprisingly muted (and lukewarm) after the big ingredient-sell.
Masala-marinated monkfish with purple potatoes, crab and spring onion and squid ink and basil dressing is tasty, the monkfish good and the spices balanced, but the crab and spring onion is difficult to remember at all a few days later.
The biggest hit of the day is the cassava chips with crème frâiche and pineapple and chipotle ketchup. We are told to dip the chips into the two accompaniments. I do as I am told. This is the best thing I have tasted so far, this chip. Shards of pure carb gloriousness, slightly more dense than conventional potato chips, but bigger, with crisp, crunchy edges, it’s worth a visit here for these alone. We leave one and all refuse to eat it. I cannot imagine that they don’t want it as much as me but I can’t be seen to be hoover up the last one. This is one of life’ s great mysteries, this reticence, and we all miss out.
I cajole the men into dessert. I force one of them to have the fenugreek leaf and orange olive oil sorbet as well as the grapefruit and Tabasco; he doesn’t fancy the bang-up-to-date turmeric one. The fenugreek is an unexpected hit, but there is a heart of iciness at its centre, which is as hard as a rock. The grapefruit sorbet is less grapefruit more Tabasco and the worse for that.
My lemon and sumac curd tart, rose water meringue and pistachio and preserved lemon is a tiny tart served on a smear of green that looks like slime but tastes like lemon curd. The tart pastry has an odd aftertaste of Parmesan in the crust, which jars. It is decorated in the modern car crash style of scattered ingredients embedded in the smear and looks a mess. The pastry is heavy. It’s fine, but feels ungenerous.
Summing up: The menu had me salivating, but the food did not. The interesting ingredients promise much in terms of flavour but what appears on the plate is fairly pedestrian, like they felt like they had to tone it down for the City boys. It’s not the right sort of food for a big serious space; too experimental for the conservatives, not edgy enough for the trendies. At the edge of Shoreditch and the City it tries to appeal to both markets but falls somewhere in the middle. When you eat this sort of food at The Providores, it often hits you between the eyes. Here it pulls its punches, not wanting to cause offence.
Scores on the doors
Food 6.5/10
Atmosphere 6/10
Value for money 7/10
Best for: competitive obscure-ingredient spotting
Worst for: doing what it says on the tin
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